


Pretty & Witty & Bright

by Dei_Starr (DeiStarr), DeiStarr



Series: Kinktober 2020 Prompt Fics [12]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Anal Sex, Androgyny, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Brat Stiles Stilinski, Casting Couch, Corset, Demisexual Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale Has a Big Dick, Derek Hale Loves Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Dom Derek Hale, Dom/sub, Erica Reyes & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Eventual Smut, First Time, Fluff and Humor, Good To Be Bad, Jealous Derek Hale, Knotting, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Makeup, Mates Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Mating Bites, Modeling, My Brain Gave Birth To Plotbunnies, Neckz 'n' Throats, Oral Sex, Peter Hale Owns A Porn Magazine, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Possessive Derek Hale, Rimming, Scent Marking, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Has a Crush on Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski and Gender, Stiles Stilinski is a Little Shit, Stiles Stilinski is a Tease, Sub Stiles Stilinski, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, The Company Not The Item, Top Derek Hale/Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Werewolf Mates, What Have I Done, audition
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:28:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27269485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeiStarr/pseuds/Dei_Starr, https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeiStarr/pseuds/DeiStarr
Summary: Stiles Stilinski is a nineteen year old virgin who just wants to get laid.(He really,reallywants it.)Erica has a plan.(It involves a pair of thigh-high stiletto boots, a corset, Derek Hale, and Peter's Porn Magazine.)(This isn't going to end well; Stiles can justfeelit.)... Hopefully, Derek won't kill him.(He really doesn't deserve to die a virgin.)
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Kinktober 2020 Prompt Fics [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1951831
Comments: 21
Kudos: 197
Collections: Kinktober 2020





	1. Setting The Stage

**Author's Note:**

> My first ever Sterek fic! <3
> 
> For the prompts: Casting Couch, and Corset, on Kinktober 8th.

Stiles Stilinski tapped his foot on the floor, waiting nervously to be called in.

He could hardly believe he was actually _here_.

Part of it was that the idea of _Stiles_ being a model – _any_ kind of model, really; but especially a model for an erotic magazine – seemed absurd.

After all, he was Stiles Stilinski; scrawny, awkward, and spastic; geeky, gangly, _walking-talking-human-disaster-Stiles._

The thought that anyone could find him attractive was just... It seemed ridiculous. In all honesty, he still half-expected to find out that this whole thing had been one big joke. If he went in and it turned out Erica had been pranking him... well, he wouldn't really be surprised.

The other part of why this whole felt surreal was the entire erotic magazine model aspect of it. He couldn't really believe he was _actually doing this._

(His dad was going to _kill_ him. That is, if he ever found out. Stiles could only hope.)

 _Sorry, Daddio,_ he thought. _If this turns out to be legit I'm gonna have to disappoint you. But I really, really don’t want to be a twenty year old virgin. And if modeling for a soft-core porn magazine doesn't get me laid, there is no hope for anything in this world._

It wasn't that Stiles had never had an opportunity to have sex – not exactly.

It was just that Stiles had a certain... _type._

He like them mean; he liked them brilliant, beautiful, and _scary_. Strong, and dominant, and angry.

Specifically, Stiles had a _danger-kink._

Nothing got him going faster than a little taste of _Oh-shit-I'm-about-to-die!_ with a side of _But-what-a-way-to-go!_

Exhibit A: his long-standing crush on Lydia Martin.

Once upon a time, Stiles thought that what attracted him to her was that incredible brain of hers. Which – don't get him wrong – was definitely _part_ of it. Her sharp tongue, her flawless acting, her beautiful face and gorgeous body – they all played a role in his fantasies.

Those things had always made him want to be her friend, and he used to follow her around and try to talk to her.

But he was never actually physically attracted to her until the day in grade school where he accidently pissed her off so much she seized him by the collar and slammed him into the lockers, looming in his face and hissing that if he _didn't shut up already she was going to **kill him with her pinky.**_

It was then, stared dazedly after her as she stalked away, that Stiles realised he was _in love_.

His innocent little pre-teen mind knew nothing of the concepts of Dominatrixes or Subs or BDSM; all he knew was that he wanted to fall to his knees and promise to be _good, **so good**_ for her.

The following years eventually taught Stiles one thing – he was attracted exclusively to people who seemed like they could and maybe _would_ snap him in half like a toothpick.

With Lydia, he was young enough when it started that his default reaction was to attempt to show her how _good_ he could be.

Maybe it was the clear ineffectiveness of that strategy that prompted his teenaged brain to switch tactics, or maybe it was just that his hormones decided it was a better way to get what he wanted; but every crush he developed after that – no matter how fleeting – his default reaction was to _try to piss them off._

Before he could even consciously register that he found them attractive, he suddenly turned into a sarcastic, mouthy brat; desperately hoping for them to put him in his place.

Of course, if they _did;_ Stiles wasn't going to just take that lying down.

No; if they wanted him to submit, they had to _earn it._

Sadly, none of his potential Doms ever really got the message.

In _entirely_ unrelated news, Stiles had gotten his ass kicked _way too many times_ for your average nineteen year old.

While his emissary training had gotten him out of many sticky situations, his over-eager libido and utter lack of filter got him into many more.

And while Stiles probably still _could_ have salvaged several of the situations if he'd just _explained_ himself, he didn't want a Dom whose reaction to his smart-ass behaviour was to lose their shit. The _threat_ of violence was much better than _actual_ violence. He didn't want a Dom who couldn't control themselves, after all – that was just asking for trouble. He wanted someone who could _promise_ him pain, but _not_ deliver unless or until he gave the green light.

Admittedly, his strategy for seeking out a prospective partner could use a _little_ work.

 _So_.

Nineteen year old, going-on-twenty year old virgin.

When Erica told him up front that he was actually extremely visually appealing to werewolves, he'd been sceptical. Long experience had taught him that _Stiles Stilinski_ was not _anyone's_ type. But Erica had been... _persuasive_.

_You've got the whole, awkward-Bambi-thing going for you; with your big, wide, amber eyes, your **obscenely** pretty neck, and your full, pouty lips; the entire awkward, gangly look actually works for you. You look like **prey;** but you're not afraid. It makes us want to **eat you right up.**_

The worst part?

She hit him where he was weakest.

Because the exec he was waiting to see?

Was _Derek Hale._

Sexy, growly, _body-like-a-Greek-god_ , smouldering hot Derek _I-Could-Rip-Your-Throat-Out- **With-My-Teeth**_ Hale.

The _one_ teenage crush who hadn't managed to fizzle out his place in Stiles’ fantasies by being an asshole. Oh, he _was_ an asshole, alright – but the _right kind_ of asshole.

No matter how hard Stiles had pushed him, he never broke.

Granted, he slammed Stiles up against more than a few walls, whacked him on the back of the head, seized him around the back of the neck, manhandled him; but he was always, _always_ careful. He had to be – as a werewolf, it would be _so easy_ for him to seriously hurt Stiles if he ever lost control. But he _didn't_.

Nothing Stiles had ever said or done, no matter how badly he'd pissed the Alpha off, had ever made him lose control. And Stiles had said and done a lot of stupid things over the years. Sometimes even _on purpose_.

Of course, as far as Stiles knew, Derek _hated_ him.

But _Erica_ didn't think so; and Stiles was willing to trust her nose.

Unless she'd been lying about his sex appeal to werewolves, either way this went, it would end in a win for him.

If Derek really _was_ into him, and had only pushed him away so adamantly and cut him off so completely before because he was underage like Erica believed; then the thought of Stiles posing as an erotic model in a werewolf porn mag should activate all of those _possessive wolfy instincts_ and incite him to _stake his claim_.

And if Derek _wasn't_ , well; then actually posing as an erotic model for werewolves would hopefully help him get laid _eventually_ as well.

Hence why he was sitting in the waiting room of the office for **_Neckz 'N' Throatz_** , a popular erotic magazine targeting werewolves.

Derek didn't actually own the magazine – that was his uncle, Peter Hale. But Derek owed him a favour, and as a result he was sitting in for the man for the next three days.

As a member of Derek's pack, he figured Erica’s intel on the whole thing was probably legit.

So here he was; waiting to audition for a werewolf skin mag, in front of his long-standing, _probably-unrequited-but-maybe-there-is-a-god_ crush, who he hadn't seen for over two years.

Personally, he thought that Derek's deliberate avoidance of him – because there was _no_ _way_ it _wasn't_ deliberate – was a pretty definitive sign that Erica didn't know what she was talking about when it came to Derek's feelings about one _Stiles Stilinski; Disaster Demisexual._

“Stiles Stilinski?” called the secretary.

Grinning, Stiles jumped to his feet – or started to, before remembering he was wearing heels today and catching himself before he could lose his balance. He scratched the back of his neck, offering the surprised secretary a sheepish smile.

"That's me!” He chirped.

“I see,” she hummed, giving him a quick once over.

Glancing down at himself, Stiles rather thought he'd done a pretty _fantastic_ job dressing up for this, _thank-you-very-much._

Legs clad in tight black leggings; his top consisted solely of a bright red, brocade vamp corset, cinched tight around his waist and chest; leaving his neck and shoulders bare. Paired with thigh-high, black leather stiletto boots, it gave him a somewhat androgynous appearance. Eyes outlined in black kohl, accentuated by red eyeshadow and lip gloss completed the look.

Erica had assured him he looked hot; and Stiles had to admit – he _felt_ sexy.

The secretary met his eyes and smiled, flashing just a hint of fang.

_“Nice.”_

He blushed.

Her smile widened, and Stiles wondered if there really was something to Erica’s claims of the _“innocent, wide-eyed Bambi"_ thing she swore he had.

Regardless, he followed her back into the office. 

Derek’s head jerked up as he entered the room, and his eyes narrowed.

 _“Stiles,”_ he growled, and Stiles shivered.

“Hey, Derek! Fancy meeting you here! _Wow_ , this is a small world! It's kind of awkward, though, isn't it? _Yeah_ , this is really awkward,” Stiles babbled. “So, are you my new boss? If I get the job, I mean; I _hope_ I get the job; I really, _really_ want to have sex someday soon and Erica _swore_ that if I did this I'd finally have a chance to get laid.”

He clamped his lips shut, mortified.

Derek just stared at him, utterly unimpressed. 

Looking everywhere but at the unhappy Alpha, Stiles fidgeted, wondering why he'd ever listened to Erica. 

Closing his eyes and letting out a pained sigh, Derek gestured to the couch across from him. 

"Sit," he ordered. 

Stiles sat. 


	2. The Interview

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek conducts Stiles' interview. It goes... _awkwardly._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been unexpectedly delayed in updating, due to such exciting things as _three_ surgeries that have kept me from writing much. I have a whole bunch of updates that will be going up in the next few days over a number of WIPs; I don't expect to have the next chapter of this fic up until sometime in January. But it _will_ be done! 
> 
> This actually got _slightly_ angsty in regard to Stiles' feelings, and I expanded a bit more on the background of the fic than I originally meant to; hopefully no one minds it too much. For the most part this fic will still be light hearted and fun; I just wound up giving it more depth than I originally planned. Like, I had the background all worked out beforehand; I just didn't plan to go into a lot of detail about it here. I figured there would just be some references to it through the three fics I have outlined for this series; maybe I'll eventually add a fourth explaining exactly what happened and how it was different from the show. 
> 
> Also, parts of this were written while I was slightly out of it on pain meds; I think I cleaned it all up pretty nicely, but I thought I should mention it in case anyone notices anything a bit off. And I should also mention that this chapter ends kind of abruptly; it wound up being a lot longer than I meant it to be, so I just cut it off where I finished editing and figured I'd add the rest of this chapter into the beginning of the next one.

Derek stared at Stiles.

Stiles stared back.

He tried _very hard_ not to fidget.

_'So… we're just gonna have a staring contest, then?'_

Derek raised an eyebrow.

Stiles raised one back.

_'…God, this is boring._

_…_

_What if I have to pee?_

_…actually, I really DO have to pee._

_…_

_…I will NOT ask Derek Hale for permission to use the bathroom._

_I WILL **DIE**. _

_…or at least never get laid._

_..._

_Which is probably **worse**._

_..._

_I just have to hold it._

_..._

_..._

_YOU CAN DO THIS STILES!_

_The future of your sex life depends on the strength of your bladder control!_

_Heh, “Depends"…_

_Hahaha, I crack myself up!'_

“…why are you giggling?”

Stiles blinked, realising he'd been staring ahead blankly, giggling to himself while he was lost in his head. Derek looked… less freaked out than Stiles would have expected him to.

 _Well_.

He might not have seen Stiles for two years, but he'd been around for a fair bit before that. Long enough to get a taste of the full _“Stiles Stilinski Experience"_.

(And Stiles _was_ pretty unforgettable, even if he _did_ say so himself.)

 _Still_.

Stiles thought it was a pretty encouraging sign that Derek didn't seem too fazed by it, so he beamed at him.

“I was just thinking about what I'm doing here!” he improvised.

“And what _are_ you doing here, Stiles?”

_'Damn, those are some judgemental eyebrows.'_

“I told you when I came in, didn't I?”

Derek folded his arms over his chest, shooting him the most unimpressed look Stiles had ever seen from him. Which was quite a feat, given some of the shit Stiles had pulled in the past.

 _Heh. Good times_.

“You're here for sex,” he said flatly. He grimaced. “ _Really_ , Stiles?”

Stiles felt a _little_ offended.

“Hey, don't _judge_ me!” he squawked. “This is the _porn industry,_ Derek. People don't come here for _spiritual_ _enlightenment!”_

A toss of his head was followed by an offended sniff. Stiles raised his chin and stared nobly off into the distance, speaking in a lofty tone.

“Put away the scowling eyebrows, Sourwolf; shame has no place here.”

Peeking out of the corner of his eye for Derek's reaction alerted Stiles to the fact that he'd closed his eyes. Taking full advantage of the werewolf's distraction he turned his head back to ogle freely.

There was a furrow on Derek's brow, and his expression was almost pained.

On the one hand, he didn't look at all murdery; so the younger man was tempted to call this a win.

On the other; the look on Derek's face was not exactly encouraging, ‘ _please, Stiles; sex-me-now’_ material.

Therefore Stiles wasn't sure if this counted as a success or not.

He suspected that throwing out his most alluring ‘ _come hither’_ look at that moment _might_ not be the best idea. Derek really didn't look like someone who wanted to be seduced right now; he suspected that trying it at this point would probably backfire somehow.

The Alpha let out a long, deep sigh. He sounded so exhausted that the Spark couldn't help feeling a little concerned for him.

(Apparently running a porn magazine was very stressful; Stiles never would have guessed. Would have expected the _opposite_ , actually.) 

_'You really do learn something new every day.'_

He tapped his fingers on his knee, trying not to jiggle it up and down. Rather than surrender to another awkward silence, he started to ramble.

“I mean, they say, ‘ _Do what you love_ ’, right? And Derek; I _love_ porn.”

 _'Annnd the judgey eyebrows are back_.'

Stiles pouted.

Derek shook his head, then attempted to get on with the interview. Glancing back down at the paperwork in front of him, he grimaced.

“Your application says that you chose the model name, ‘ _Bambi’_ ,” he said.

“Oh! That was Erica’s idea!” Stiles shamelessly ratted out the female wolf. “She said that it ‘ _emphasizes my prey-like qualities_ '; and assured me that they’re very attractive to werewolves!”

Incredulity filled the face of the werewolf, along with irritation.

“Look, Stiles, I don't think this is such a good idea.”

Scowling, Stiles protested.

“Whoa; slow down there, Sourwolf! I've already been preapproved for a trial shoot, since Peter liked the portfolio Erica made for me.”

Hearing that, the Derek Hale Glare of Doom™ came out, focused in on Stiles with laser-like intensity. Blushing, Stiles squirmed in his seat; trying very hard not to smell like it was turning him on. Judging by the growing problem in his pants, he doubted it was working very well.

Casting his thoughts around for something decidedly unsexy to think about in order to reduce the size of the problem he was dealing with before it could become more noticeable, it occurred to Stiles that there was really no point in hiding the effect Derek's glare had on him. Certainly not when the wolf in question already _knew_ that Stiles was hot for him. After all, even when they first met and Derek was just a very dangerous-looking, somewhat-violent stranger who might or might not have been a serial killer; his potential sociopathy didn't stop Stiles from developing an instant fear-boner every time he was in the older man's presence.

While he had found Derek devastatingly attractive from first glance – as would anyone with eyes – it had only taken a single instance of manhandling for Stiles' body to develop a Pavlovian response of developing an immediate inappropriate erection at the sight of that glare. His poor horny brain was convinced – with plenty of solid reason to be, considering past experience – that the sight of that glare would promptly be followed by the sensation of Derek's big, strong hands on him; bodily moving Stiles wherever Derek wanted him to go.

It was really _unfairly hot_.

So Derek either knew exactly what kind of effect he had on Stiles, or he was under the impression that the natural scent of _Eau de Stiles_ basically consisted of nothing but extreme arousal and the overpowering aroma of pre-ejaculate.

Which – unfortunately – actually _was_ possible.

Stiles was just _insanely attracted_ to the guy, _okay?_

Being in Derek's presence for approximately ten seconds or longer might have been enough to get Stiles hard enough to drill a hole in concrete with nothing but his dick; but it wasn't like Stiles could _control_ that.

It was totally _Derek’s_ fault for being such a sexy bastard.

“ _Really,_ Stiles? You're telling me Peter actually agreed to waste the time and money to do a shoot with you?”

_'Emphasis on the ‘ **bastard’**.'_

Stiles puffed up in offense.

_' **Why**_ _do I like him so much, again?'_

Before he could get more than a squawk out, Derek pushed away from the desk and rose to his feet. Prowling forward with a swift, predatory gait, he loomed over Stiles with such an overwhelming aura of strength; of leashed power and carefully-restrained danger that the Spark almost swallowed his tongue. Dropping his weight onto his hands on the arm-rests of Stiles’ chair, he leaning in and over him threateningly. Caging him in with his – _strong, **so** solid and strong; ohmy **god**_ – arms and crowding him up against the back of his seat.

Eyelashes fluttering, Stiles had to fight not to bare his neck and whimper.

Yeah, there was definitely no pretending that Derek was not Stiles’ number one walking wet dream at this point. Even if the Alpha had for some reason suddenly and completely lost his sense of smell, the diamond-hard cock desperately straining to break out of Stiles’ tight pants and point unerringly straight up at the cause of its current state was plainly visible.

_'Dignity? Never heard of it.'_

Stiles couldn't even muster up the weakest sense of shame in the wake of Derek ‘ _Personification-of-Hotness’_ Hale pushing himself into Stiles’ personal space and staring into his eyes. So mesmerized by that hazel-green gaze he felt dizzy and breathless; barely able to hold himself back from panting.

Derek stared at him, close enough to touch, eyes boring into his. His nostrils flared as he breathed in, and his eyes flashed red. A growl rumbled in his chest, and Stiles’ breath hitched.

Just as suddenly as he'd pushed his way into Stiles' space, the Alpha backed away, turning around and swiftly putting some distance between the two of them. Leaning on the desk in front of him, putting his weight on his hands splayed over the surface; his back to Stiles, he hung his head and breathed deep. Fists clenched as though he was struggling for control.

A harsh swallow worked it’s way down Stiles' now very dry throat.

Tipping his head back, Derek sighed, releasing the tension he was holding, and unconsciously releasing the tension Stiles was holding as well.

_'I am **not** disappointed. Not **at all**.'_

Closing his eyes, the magic user let out a shaky breath as he chastised himself.

_'It's not like anything good was going to happen **anyway**. He doesn't like you, and he's sure as hell not attracted to you. His disbelief at the idea that you could possibly be attractive enough for this job is proof of that.'_

(He pretended that the ache in his chest was nothing but the aftereffects of adrenaline.

Pretended that he didn't care _what_ Derek thought of him.

That the way the other man had always dismissed him; disregarded him like he didn't _matter_ , was nothing.

Pretended that it didn't hurt to know that this pull; this inexorable _draw_ he felt towards the Hale alpha, was entirely and pathetically one-sided.

Like it seemed his crushes were always doomed to be.

Like it didn't hurt every time there was someone he cared about; someone he had feelings for, who he wanted _so much_ , who never wanted him _back_.

As though it didn't make him feel undesirable and unlovable.

Unneeded and unwanted.

 _Unnecessary_.

He was good at that. _Pretending_.)

Shaking his head to dispel thoughts he'd rather not dwell on, he opened up his eyes.

The werewolf was back behind the desk, brow furrowed as he flipped through the file with Stiles' application and the brief portfolio Erica had made for him.

She'd taken a ton of photos of him all done up and dressed in slightly revealing, teasingly androgynous clothing; posed in a variety of ways designed to highlight the long, elegant arch of his pale neck, the size and vulnerability of his amber eyes, and the long, slender stretch of his limbs.

 _(Emphasising his various prey-like qualities,_ she'd said.)

Regardless, he knew from having gone through them afterwards that he looked good in them. Choosing the best samples to include with his application had involved examining all of them. Being confronted with the sight of himself looking like a number of things; from fragile and shy and sweet, to saucy and playful and teasing, to desperate and eager and pleading. Posing for them had been surprisingly easy once he'd followed her suggestion about picturing Derek being the one they were taken for.

Which just made noticing how tight the lines around Derek's mouth looked as he examined Stiles' various ‘sexy shots' that much more offensive. The expression of obvious displeasure on the alpha’s face as he examined them made him wince reflexively.

 _(Right_. As if he'd needed _more_ evidence of just how much Derek disliked being forced to view Stiles as a sexual being.)

 ** _'Yay_**.'

Mercifully, the wolf made no comments about the provocative display they showcased.

Of course, because Stiles' luck _couldn't_ be _that_ good, the Alpha still felt the need to comment on _other_ parts of his application.

“It says here you're a submissive.”

He kept whatever commentary he had on that little tidbit of information quiet; but the dubious expression on his face spoke volumes. His eyebrows expressed their scepticism so loudly that Stiles honestly felt very offended.

“Hey!” he squawked. “Don’t be like that, Judgey-Wolf; I'll have you know that I am an _awesome_ submissive!”

Stiles swore he heard Derek's teeth grind.

“Have a lot of experience, do you?” he asked, his voice rather nasty with sarcasm.

Flushing, Stiles rallied quickly.

“Look, Derek, I might not have any _practical_ experience; but I am _theoretically_ an _expert!”_

The incredulous look on Derek's face was actually pretty embarrassing. He looked like he simply had no idea how to respond to Stiles' assertion, but the edge of disbelief in the look he was giving the Emissary-in-training made the Spark feel small and wounded somehow.

He knew that most people would assume he didn’t know what he was talking about just because he hadn't had the chance to experience any of it first-hand. They didn't consider the sheer amount of research Stiles had done on the subject; the volume of discussions he’d had and soul-searching he'd done while figuring out just what was going on with his finicky sexuality.

For all that he hadn't actually put any of it into practice, his knowledge and understanding of the subject was not insubstantial. And it didn't stop him from being very passionate on the subject.

What he lacked in experience, he made up for with opinions. He had very passionate ideas about submission and dominance; and they were _legion_.

Admittedly, the only reason he was still an untried virgin was that he was incredibly picky; but that didn't stop him from being proud of the fact that he had _standards_. Standards which he refused to bend for _anyone_.

It was one part of the whole ‘Emissary training’ business that made him uneasy.

Submitting to some random alpha to join their pack was not really a very appealing prospect; not anymore so than submitting to a virtual stranger for a casual sexual encounter would be – and _that_ was something Stiles had already figured out he wasn't comfortable with. At least, not enough to try it as a _virgin_.

On the whole, he was sort of grateful that Scott had managed to become a ‘True Alpha’ through the power of sheer bloody-mindedness and stubborn refusal to back down or change his mind or own up to his mistakes.

Which honestly made Scott sound kind of _awful;_ but it was unfortunately a lot more accurate a descriptor than Deaton’s poetical waxing on about Scott's ‘Strength of Will’, ‘Purity of Spirit’, and the ‘Force of his Convictions'.

Scott was his best friend; his _brother_.

He _loved_ that moron, and was well-aware of his own deficiencies and the fact that Scott had to put up with a lot at times from him as well. That did _not_ mean Stiles was somehow blind to his friend's faults, or that Scott was the only one in their friendship who had to deal with irritating flaws at times. And Scott's best qualities were also sometimes his worst.

Case in point – Scott’s unending, unjustifiable antagonism, hostility, and hatred towards Derek after he'd been turned.

Scott had signed up for the bite for his mom's sake; because his asthma wasn't getting any better and they couldn't really afford the hospital bills and medication. Melissa wanted him to have a chance at a normal life, without the constant risk of dying suddenly because his lungs gave out on him. But he resented the loss of his humanity and took it out on Derek, making the Alpha deeply regret having agreed to take him on.

Not that Scott's feelings about the whole thing were _entirely_ unwarranted; given that he was bitten without warning or even meeting Peter Hale before the then-alpha decided to bite him.

Of course, Peter didn't simply decide to bite Scott at random – he had _applied_ for the bite, been tested and declared a viable candidate – AKA someone who was 99.9% guaranteed not to die of bite rejection – and been given tentative approval, pending the decision of his potential alpha and future pack. It was important for bite candidates to get along with the packs they would be joining; so there was a waiting period where he was supposed to meet them, talk with the Alpha, and see how well everyone meshed together.

On top of the usual wait times there was an additional delay; since the closest Alpha to Scott's home was embroiled in a controversy over the way he became an alpha in the first place. Until it was determined whether the oldest surviving Hale would be allowed to keep the Alpha status he'd wrested away from his niece through a ritual performed without her consent, he wasn't allowed to turn _anyone_.

So Scott’s application was put on hold until that was resolved, and he was secretly very pleased about it.

Granted, he complained often enough about not having the chance to make first line due to being stuck with his asthma longer that no one actually realised how conflicted he was about the turning beforehand.

 _That_ was the kind of thing that the trial period before the Bite was meant to uncover and deal with; either by resolving the issues or dropping the Bite candidate. Because Scott's application was put on hold indefinitely until the various legal, medical, and social issues the Hale pack was dealing with were sorted out, no one knew how reluctant he really was about the whole thing.

If everything had progressed the way it was _supposed_ to once the scandal had all been straightened out, he either would have dealt with his uncertainty and gotten over it, or ended up being denied.

Peter simply _didn't want to wait_.

Apparently, he had come to the conclusion that biting a new Beta would _somehow_ legitimise his claim to being the Alpha, and since Scott was the closest candidate to being accepted that he was able to get to easily Peter assumed that there wouldn't be a problem.

It was just unfortunate that Scott had been depending on having that extra time to come to terms with the idea of becoming a werewolf before it would be too late to back out.

It was even _more_ unfortunate that he'd just met and subsequently fallen for Allison Argent – Heiress to the Argent Hunter Dynasty – right after being bitten. His relationship with an Argent alone would have disqualified him from joining the Hale pack, given the infamous Kate Argent and Gerard Argent’s involvement in the fire that killed half of the Hale pack; but he might have still been considered by Satomi Ito.

In the end, Scott was illegally bitten without his consent by a half-mad Alpha who'd only recently gotten out of the coma he'd been in for almost six years.

Which left Stiles' best friend with a chip on his shoulder a mile wide, and the conviction that he no longer had to try to accept the idea of being a werewolf after all, since it wasn't going to be a requirement for him to become one.

Stiles was pretty sure that the only person more frustrated with Scott over the whole thing than he was, had been Derek Hale.

Melissa felt too guilty over pushing Scott into something that she now knew he hadn't wanted, and no one else spent as much time listening to Scott disparage his new species and pitying himself as Stiles did. Except maybe Allison; but then, _Argent_. She probably _agreed_ with Scott's bullshit views on werewolves.

Part of Scott's anger was over the fact that Peter wasn't really punished beyond being forced to surrender his Alpha status and being required to receive counselling and psychological help to recover from both the fire and his subsequent years in a coma.

There had already been a fierce debate ongoing, about Peter stripping the comatose Laura Hale of her Alpha Spark after he woke up and learned that his pack had been living with an unconscious alpha since the fire; between those who admitted that it probably needed to be done at some point anyway, and those who felt it was unethical; as well as those who felt Peter should be penalized for it, and those who felt that given his circumstances, he really just needed _all the therapy._

Though he would never admit it to Scott, Stiles was firmly in that last camp even before the unstable wolf attacked his friend.

_**(TBC)** _

**Author's Note:**

> The corset Stiles is wearing is
> 
> [Here.](https://selectafashion.com/en/men-corsets/14620-brocade-vamp-corset-for-men.html).


End file.
